


To Days To Come

by bananasandroses (achuislemochroi)



Series: Whofic [57]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Pete's World, Reunions, Tenth Doctor Era, To Days To Come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8198065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achuislemochroi/pseuds/bananasandroses
Summary: That’s how she was standing here, laughing at Mickey.





	

**Author's Note:**

> An unbeta-ed bit of flangst (fluffy angst, you’ll see what I mean once you’ve read it) I wrote to cheer myself up. The title’s from a line spoken by the Fifth Doctor in _Time Crash_.

She couldn’t stop herself from spending the first anniversary back on that beach after fantasising that perhaps, this time, he would do the impossible; but nothing had happened. Not even a whisper of her name and that had hurt the most. By the time she’d arrived home, depressed and distraught, she'd forced herself to admit that she had to move on. Yet even now, months after that anniversary, some days were still better than others.

She’d been melancholy when she woke that morning, missing _him_ more than usual. She couldn’t help her mood, but it had been a long time since the pain of it was so sharp. Mickey, darling Mickey who could always read her better than anyone even now, had asked her if she fancied going for a walk; she'd agreed to go just to get him off her back more than anything when all she’d wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry.

So that’s how she was standing here laughing at Mickey, who was looking at her with his mouth open in astonishment.

“Don’t want to leave your mouth open like that, Mickey. You might end up catc—”

Just as she registered that Mickey was looking _behind_ her rather than _at_ her, something (no, someone) covered her eyes and she cut herself off mid-sentence.

Those hands were _cold_.

Only one person she knew had hands anything like that; the last time she'd seen him was a year and more ago. It _couldn’t_ be him.

Whoever it was shuffled closer to her until they were almost on top of her, and lowered their head until their lips – cold again, she could tell, even though it _wasn’t_ him – were close enough to her ear she could feel their breath against her skin.

She was poised to give this stranger a well-deserved elbow in the stomach. Anything, if it meant she could get away. But it was uncanny how similar this person seemed to be to _him_ , and she held back. Painful, violent hope surged inside her.

Then, at last, she heard it – the voice she’d long thought she’d never hear again, unique to its owner. The tone of it full of love, and pain, and longing – and all of it directed at _her_.

How she’d longed for this.

“Oh, my Rose. My precious, precious girl. Did you miss me?”


End file.
